From the Shadows
by Dragair
Summary: Ginny has spent the last six years in the shadows trying to slow Voldmortes ascent to power. Now that Harry is dead and the order has fallen she knows her only hope is to journey into the past.


I would just like to point out that I do not own Harry Potter. That honor goes to JK Rowling.

Chapter One: The Exchange

Ginny Weasley leaned against a wall in a grimy alley not far from Gringotts. To the unobservant, it would appear as if no one was there. The darkness of the night and her dull, shabby clothes hid her well. She might have been as still as the dead but her eyes moved rapidly from place to place. Scanning everything as she clutched her wand tight, searching out any potential enemies.

Her enemies were many these days. She may have parted ways with the Order in the summer before her sixth year at Hogwarts but any who had even a slight connection to them had a golden ticket to a very pain filled execution from His Viciousness, Lord Almighty Voldemort. Apparently now that he had a firm control over the wizarding world her needed more titles to show his overwhelming power.

Not that she needed that connection. She was proud to say that she had managed to worm her way up to public enemy number one all on her lonesome. Well, she wasn't totally alone, she thought, as she peered around, frowning slightly as she noticed that they were late.

Neville and Luna should have sent someone to meet her already. She would give it another ten minutes she decided as she drifted further into the shadows, hoping that the deeper darkness would make it harder to see her. She was invisible enough she knew, but lingering outside after curfew if you were not granted a permit was not wise. It was taken as a statement of defiance and was met with a quick execution. She still had use for her head.

She froze as she heard the distinct sound of footsteps. She slowed and quieted her breathing while reaching into her boot for her throwing knife. The hard, sleek surface was reassuring and she let a smile of anticipation cross her face. Friend or enemy she would enjoy this. Only the criminal, insane, or the Deatheaters wander around after dark. She was hoping for the former but wouldn't mind the latter.

A hunched figure turned around the corner and came into sight. She relaxed when the person began to hit their hands against the wall. Three quick taps followed by two drawn out ones. That was the code.

She let the figure come to her. Only when he was on the verge of walking past her did she clutch his arm and wrap her other arm around the figures back, placing the dagger against his throat.

"Who do you serve?" Ginny hissed the question, digging the dagger into the figure's neck threateningly.

The figure began to shake slightly beneath her hand. She couldn't help feeling slightly disgusted at the coward. Finally, just as she was going to just put the poor thing out of its misery it gasped out in squeaky but clearly masculine voice, "The Shadows."

Ginny moved the knife away from the man's neck slightly. Giving him room to move but not enough to turn around and see her. Being seen was what brought the fall of the order. Too many people knew who was involved. It made it too easy for a traitor to wreak havoc. This philosophy had kept her alive and free for the last six years. No reason to get sloppy now when the end was so near.

"Do you have it?" Ginny's question was short and clipped.

Sensing that she was on the end of her patience tonight he jerked his head up and down like a marionette. He hissed in pain when he clipped himself on her dagger in his eagerness to please.

In normal circumstances it might have been amusing. But their circumstances were not normal. "You idiot," she growled, her anger rising as she reached around him with her dagger free hand and felt for the item she had come for. She finally found what she was looking for.

She put the small leather bag in the pockets of her robes and mumbled, "Oblivate."

As he stood there in a daze she began scaling the wall. She managed to find all the little notches and cracks that were necessary for her getaway. She put all her energy into not falling as fear and adrenaline began to eat at her. They were coming. She knew it. The werewolf night guards had probably noticed the musky scent of blood. They were no doubt on there way and after six years of running she was not going to be caught because some pup managed to betray her with his carelessness.

She dove silently over the edge and onto the roof. Lying perfectly still as the messenger began to scream in pain. After five minutes of crashes, grunts, and sobs the werewolves began to drag the poor man away. No doubt to his execution. She was beyond caring and that made her sad. She vaguely remembered a time when his death might have affected her more but right now she could only feel relief that she had succeeded.

She remained lying on the roof long after the man's screams and the brutal faded in the distance. She looked up at the stars. They made her feel smaller and more insignificant then ever before. They seemed to be twinkling angrily at her. As if to say that they were disappointed in the monster that she had been forced to transform into to remain alive. Her parents, she reflected would be so ashamed of her, she reflected sadly as she gazed blindly upward. They had wished for a perfect daughter and instead they had managed to receive a jaded murderer and thief.

After a while she remembered what she had risked her life coming to Diagon Alley for. She reached into her robe and clutched at the little leather bag. For the first time in years she felt hope. Her future, the future of every descent human being was now in her hands, in the hands of a criminal. God help us all.


End file.
